Of the Night: Silver
by mathmonkey167
Summary: Parallel story to the sequel to Of the Night, focuses on an OC who appears later in the sequel. Much more interesting than the description makes it sound!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Of the Night readers! This story runs parallel to what is taking place in Choices, Change, and Fate. The reason I am writing/posting it is because this OC will show up in the sequel to OtN, and I didn't want to add more confusion to CCF by detouring so far from the storyline with his background. He's interesting, so I figured that it wouldn't hurt to give him a story of his own. Again, he does appear, so keep track of this story, perhaps while you wait for new CCF updates ;) Many thanks to Spartan 10007 for the character; I am hopeful that I will be able to do him justice. **

**I know that this, and the sequel, are possibly quite different from what you were expecting, but I am also hopeful that you will enjoy reading them as much as I am enjoying writing them.**

**This is the short(er) version of the story of James "Silver" Winter, a man accused of a crime he did not commit, forced to leave the life he knew to spend the rest of his days in the wilderness, until a chance encounter (or perhaps a fated one) alters the course of his life forever. M for language and violence.**

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><p>He stalked the deer, creeping forward silently. He'd have to get pretty close before striking; his sword was long, but not that long. He considered using one of his throwing knives but decided against it, he only had a few left and didn't want to lose another before he could craft more. <em>And, all things considered, that was never going to happen.<em> Besides, this was good practice. He was slim enough to avoid making more than a whisper as he crept through the brush, carefully avoiding the twigs and dried leaves that were scattered all over the ground.

He was within three yards of the deer now. Its back was turned, and it was making enough noise as it ate to cover his gentle footfalls. _Silly animals_, he thought for what must have been the umpteenth time. Still, he held his breath, each step deliberate as he raised his sword.

He was about to leap out and strike when a terrifying screech shattered the hushed atmosphere, accompanied by a resounding series of crashes, sending birds shrieking into the air. Startled, the deer froze, and he cursed silently. _One more step_... Distracted, he failed to notice the stick beneath his foot, and it snapped loudly, audible over the strange commotion taking place somewhere in the distance.

The deer looked back and caught a glimpse of him, before taking off in a sprint. Swearing loudly, he stood and performed a stunt he had only practiced a few times, throwing his sword end over end after the retreating animal. It looked like it was going to hit its mark when the deer suddenly veered to the left, and the blade sunk deeply into the trunk of a large tree.

"Gods _damn_ it!" he shouted, stomping over to the tree and yanking at his sword. It took a few tugs, but it finally pulled free, scattering splinters. "Ugh!" There was a bit of sap on the edge of the blade, and he knew it would take a fair bit of time to scrape it off. It was already mid-afternoon, the warm sunlight dappling the ground where it streamed through the leaves above, and he knew that he'd have to check all his traps in the hopes that he might have snared some dinner.

_But first_… His scowl deepened. Whatever had made all that noise was going to be immensely sorry for ruining his dinner plans, not to mention his breakfast and lunch plans.

He stalked through the trees, swinging his sticky sword back and forth with frustration, muttering under his breath. Suddenly he realized that the woods were unusually silent. No bird calls could be heard, not even a breeze shifted the branches high up above him. All he could hear was his own breaths, which seemed deafening in the hush of the atmosphere.

He noticed a pile of branches in a large patch of sunlight and darted over, sword held at the ready. They smelled fresh, the sap still wet. Looking up, he realized that the tops of the nearby trees had been completely broken off, and a chill ran down his spine as he looked back to the pile of branches, finally noticing a trail of them through the forest. Something had crashed through the trees and landed here… suddenly aware of how exposed he was, he crouched, weighing his options. Whatever it was, it was clearly large, and clearly not something he wanted to tangle with if it had _fallen from the sky._ And… it was probably still nearby. He looked back over to the smashed up branches, noting that the path the creature had made appeared to be straight, heading towards the base of the mountain.

For a moment he warred with himself, finally sighing as he stood up and prepared to follow the trail. _It's not like it matters what happens to me, anyways. _

The first tree he passed seemed to have been bent backwards by whatever had come through this way, and it took him a second to register the dark red smear on the bark. _Blood. Great. _Either the thing was wounded or it had brought with it something that was.

After about fifteen minutes he encountered wide river. It didn't appear to be moving particularly quickly, but he had no idea how deep it was. Looking across, he could see that the trail of broken trees continued, and even from this distance he could see that there were tracks in the mud on the bank. Frustrated, he picked up a rock and tossed it out into the center of the river, where it sunk with a loud _thunk_. Looking up and down stream, he noticed a series of rocks spanning the width of the water, and with a sigh he headed down to them, rolling up his pants and pulling off his boots so he could gain better traction on the slippery, wobbly stones. Once he was across, he quickly fixed his clothes and headed back upstream, where the trail was still fresh. Nervously, he took in the large tracks that betrayed the creature's unnaturalness. This was no creature he had ever encountered in these woods, but the mud had distorted the prints, so he couldn't be sure of its origin.

Steeling himself, he followed the trail uphill through splintered trees and trampled ground, noting the spots of blood marking the path. A few minutes later, he saw before him an open space in the forest, filled with sunlight, and he slowed his pace, weighing his options once again. Deciding it was too late to turn back now, he crouched, holding his sword at the ready.

On edge, he crept into the large clearing, gaze scanning the rocks that walled one side of the space. Nothing stirred, and he exhaled a sigh of relief, straightening from his crouch and letting his sword arm drop. But looking at the ground he could see large scrape marks in the dirt, with dark red smears and droplets scattered around them.

Suddenly a terrible growl filled the clearing and he whipped around, one arm holding up his sword and the other reaching for one of the hidden blades on his hip. For a moment he could see nothing, eyes searching the craggy rocks, then his gaze landed on a large, shadowed overhang. In it was the outline of a large creature, but he couldn't make it out.

He could hear it well enough though, growling deeply from the shadows. But it didn't rush out to attack. Quickly he glanced at the ground, trying to interpret the situation. From the crashing and the bloodstains, he was starting to suspect that the creature might be injured.

But what was it? _Please don't let it be a dragon_, he prayed. The sworn enemies of his people. But what else could it be? His brain told him to run as fast and as far away as he could, but something else made him pause. The growling was growing weaker, fading into a grumble.

Despite the screaming in the back of his mind, he took a step forward, his arm shifting away from the knife on his hip. Immediately the growl intensified, though it still sounded weak. He took another step forward, and the creature seemed to rise, growing in stature. His heart skipped a beat, but he didn't back away, keeping his sword raised.

Slowly the creature emerged from the shadows, and his breath caught in his throat. It was a dragon like he had never seen before, black with purple markings, and a triangular head rimmed with long spikes. It hissed, revealing a wide mouth filled with sharp teeth. It wasn't a large dragon by any means, but for some reason he got the impression that it was far more deadly than some of the bigger dragons he had encountered in his almost twenty years.

His first instinct was to run. His second was to raise his sword and attack, which would almost certainly result in his death. _Well, there were worse things. _

But there was something about the creature that stilled his hand. It growled at him, but he noticed the bloody scrapes along its sides, and he lowered his sword, uncertain.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, not knowing where the words were coming from. "You're hurt. Maybe I can help you."

It growled again, looking angrily at his sword. Swallowing, he dropped it to the ground, pushing it away with his foot. Taking an unsteady breath, he stepped forward again. "I mean it. I have no interest in harming or killing you, not that I think I could."

The dragon snarled as he approached, and he looked down, realizing that his hand was on his hip, ready to pull out and throw a knife. With another swallow, he removed the three knives from his belt, tossing them away.

Suspiciously, the dragon glanced back and forth between him and the discarded weapons, clearly unsure of what to make of him.

"I swear. Let me help you… would it help if I introduced myself? James Winter, at your service. Exiled to wander the wilderness until death, accused of a crime I did not commit. So if you decide to kill me, it won't matter to anyone but me, but I'll be dead, so I suppose it doesn't actually matter at all. Where I come from, dragons are the spawn of all that is evil, but I've never really felt that way. Don't ask me why…" he was rambling, but he wanted to put the creature at ease.

"Listen, I bet you're hungry, and I don't think you'll be doing much hunting like that," James pointed at the dragon's wounds. "So, I'm going to take my weapons, and bring back some food. Sound good?"

The dragon growled, but didn't move to attack him, so he figured it was agreeing with him. "Okay, then. Be back later!" he turned around, scooped up his sword and knives, before jogging back into the forest, following the path the dragon had made earlier. Over the next few hours he checked all of his traps, coming up with a surprising amount of game.

He debated not going back, but knew with certainty that the dragon probably wouldn't survive without his help. And something about its ferocity, even in the face of danger, garnered his admiration. So, he gathered up all the food he could find, along with some of the native plants he noticed on his way back towards the mountain.

When he got back in the clearing he announced himself clearly, gaze immediately landing on the creature resting in the mouth of the small cave it had found. It looked up at him, seeming surprised, before scowling and looking away.

James laughed at that, gently setting down the game and bringing over some branches to start a fire. "I don't suppose you could give me a hand with this fire?" he called out, and the dragon briefly glanced in his direction before snorting and turning its gaze away again. "Fine, fine…" The sun had almost set, so he did his best to set up a small spit and get a fire going. He immediately started working on skinning the game he had caught, then paused, uncertain.

"Do you prefer your meat raw or cooked?" he called out, but this time the dragon actually looked at him, clearly bewildered.

"You know, like on the fire?" It rolled its eyes. _Obviously it knew what cooked meant. _

"So… is that a yes?" It stared at him, then slowly shook its head.

"Well, then come and get it." James turned back to the rabbit he was gutting. He figured that the dragon would come out when it was good and ready, and he didn't feel like sitting and waiting for it to do so. Setting aside the rabbit, he scooped up some of the plants he'd picked and, using a rock, ground them up against another large rock, pouring a bit of water from his water skin over it to make a thick paste. He bit his lip, focusing on the task at hand. _Let's see… a little more of this, that should do it… _

Suddenly he got the distinct feeling that there was something behind him, and he looked up, before slowly turning to come face to face with the dragon. He gulped, but didn't break eye contact. Instead, he reached out with his right hand to pick up the gutted rabbit, and held it up to for the creature to inspect. It sniffed it, still staring him in the eye, before opening its mouth slowly.

"What, do you want me to throw it to you? Okay." He tossed the meat into the dragon's mouth, which immediately clamped shut as it swallowed the food whole. A strange expression crossed over its face, like it found the rabbit distasteful. "Do you not like rabbit?" The dragon's scowl returned. "Well, what do you like, then? I've got some other small game, but that's probably about the same. Would you prefer something bigger, like a deer?" So subtly he almost missed it, the dragon shook its head, and James almost gasped with shock, before gathering himself. He got the feeling he needed to be as focused as possible when dealing with this creature.

"Hmm… what else is there? I sincerely doubt you're a vegetarian, so… do you like human food? Like, our livestock?"

It shook its head again, more noticeably. "Well, that's good, because I don't have any of that. So you don't like red meat in general. What, do you like fish, then?"

It nodded, and James couldn't help but smile. "Then tomorrow I'll go fishing. In the mean time, can you handle eating some more of this stuff?" It looked thoughtful, before nodding. "Good. You need your strength."

He fed almost all of the game to the dragon, saving a small rabbit for himself. The sun slipped below the trees, leaving the clearing cast in shadows. Once he had finished his own dinner, he looked over at the dragon, which had lain down on its side nearby, watching him closely.

"Okay. Before it gets any darker, I need to at least look at those wounds," James pointed at the dragon's side, and it scowled, growling.

"Don't give me any of that. Come on, I didn't poison you with the meat. Why would I share my food if I wanted you dead? I'm not that devious. Here, smell this," he scooped up a handful of the paste on the rock, holding up his arm. Slowly the dragon got to its feet, still staring at him aggressively, coming close enough to be able to smell his hand. James forced himself to stand still, not wanting to startle the creature. After all, he enjoyed the use of all of his limbs.

"See? Nothing poisonous here. Move your wing over, yeah, like that— I need to see all of the damage." Looking extremely suspicious, the dragon slowly shifted its wing, revealing a terrible series of deep gashes, and—

"Are those _arrows?_" James squinted, unsure if he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. "Was somebody hunting you?"

The dragon growled softly.

"Well, I certainly hope they aren't nearby, because your trail wasn't exactly hard to follow." It scowled at him, and he shrugged. "Just saying. Now, hold your wing up. This shouldn't hurt."

Stepping closer, he leaned in and gently touched the nearest wound, slowly rubbing the salve over it. The dragon hissed, but it didn't sound upset. James glanced up at its face, seeing it staring him down, and nodded. "See? I'm not so bad." Gathering speed, he no less gently applied the salve to the rest of the dragon's abraded hide, before reaching the arrows near its hind leg.

"Okay. I have to pull these out. I can't promise that _this _won't hurt, but they have to come out. Please, try not to kill me before I can remove them both. Or ever, actually, if you're feeling generous." He placed his left hand on the dragon's hide, holding the arrow still, then used his right hand to grab onto the arrow's shaft.

"Ready? One, two…" He yanked it out and the creature growled loudly, but remarkably it stayed completely still.

"Okay, okay. One more…" James repeated the process, then got more salve and did his best to seal the deep wounds with it. What would his mother say if she could see him now, using her training on a _dragon _of all things? When it was a dragon that had taken her from him when he was only a boy?

He sighed, closing his eyes. Best not to let old wounds open up. So he turned and looked at the dragon, who was watching him with what appeared to be curiosity.

"What?"

It made a funny groaning noise, which he couldn't even begin to decipher. "Are you telling me something? Never mind, I suppose it doesn't matter. Now, if you trust me enough to let me sleep here, I would like to do so. Tomorrow I can go fishing, the river's less than ten minutes down the hill. Then I should probably go back to my camp and get my supplies…" he trailed off, thinking. "Anyways. You should rest too, you had quite a day, looks like. If you haven't eaten me by then, I'll see you in the morning."

The dragon rolled its eyes, slowly getting to its feet and making its way back to its little cave. James, ignoring the chill of the night, laid down on his back next to the dying fire and looked up at the stars, wishing with all his heart that he could change the past, and knowing that he would never be able to.


	2. Chapter 2

James awoke feeling stiff and cold. For a moment he was extremely disconcerted, then the events of the previous day came rushing back to him. With a grunt he sat up, blinking in the early morning light. The sun's rays hadn't quite reached over the tree tops, and the clearing was cast in cool shadows. Rubbing his hands together, he looked around, eyes settling on the dark cave entrance. He couldn't quite see into it, but for some reason he hoped that the dragon was in there, and that it was alright. _Are you stupid? You should be hoping the exact opposite! _The voice in his head was up bright and early, reminding him of his apparent psychosis. He couldn't help but smile. Maybe he was crazy, maybe this creature would be the death of him, but at least he would die knowing that his conscience was clear. _Despite everyone else's efforts to make sure that the exact opposite would take place. _

But he wasn't guilty. He knew it, and Ihana knew it. So why hadn't she defended him? Why had she stood by and let their tribe banish him to spend the rest of his life in the woods with only what he was able to carry on his back?

He shivered. He wasn't even twenty yet, and he was probably going to die without redemption in the wilderness. Most likely sooner rather than later. And for what? His only crime was to have loved someone who did not love him as much as he had thought she did. _Apparently that was enough to get a person framed for murder around here. _

He thought back to the evening not so long ago when he had come up to the Chief's house, carrying a bouquet of hand-picked wildflowers. She loved wildflowers, she had mentioned it often on their walks. So, finally summoning the courage, he went to ask her father for permission to court her. Instead, Ihana answered the door, letting him in and taking him to her room.

As they kissed, flowers tossed aside, she whispered the words that would change everything. "I'm getting married." It had been like a bucket of ice water over his head, and he stepped back in shock.

"You're what?"

"I'm getting married. Tomorrow. Father has arranged it, and it will be done." She didn't sound nearly as broken up about it as James felt, and he grabbed her hands.

"No… You can't!"

"I have to, James," she sighed.

His best friend from childhood, the woman he had envisioned spending the rest of his life with… was going to marry another. _And tomorrow, no less! _

"No… Come with me," he said rashly. "We'll run away, where no one can force you to marry anybody!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" she snapped, and he should have left then. But he didn't. "You know that I cannot become Chief. I'm a _woman, _and _women _can't be Chief. So I'm getting married to the man Father thinks should be the next Chief."

James felt as though a knife was being thrust through his heart. "Who… who is it?"

"You know Trader Nolan's son? The big one. Moukka."

"_Moukka?_" he asked incredulously. "He's as dumb as a post!"

"Oh, hush, James. And you think you could be Chief?"

"All I think is that I love you, damn the Chiefdom."

"James… I'm sorry. Really. But we can't stop this."

He ran both hands through his hair, feeling like he was standing on the edge of a bottomless abyss, about to fall. "So this is it."

"Well…" she smiled seductively. "You're here, and Father's out celebrating… you _could _stay a while."

"But why? What's the point? You should be mine, and I'm losing you. Forever."

"I could be yours tonight. One last time." He should have left. James knew he should leave, why didn't he? Why couldn't he?

Instead, he stayed, sneaking out in the hours before dawn to return to his own home, where his father was fast asleep downstairs, exhausted from another long day of smithing. His spirit was cold, his heart numb, his soul torn to pieces.

In the morning he was roughly awoken by his father. "What have you _done, _James?" he asked hoarsely, his eyes crazed.

"Wha—"

Behind his father two of the town guards, looking grim. "You're coming with us."

"James, _why _have you done this?" his father was close to tears.

"What have I done?"

"You are being charged with the murder of Moukka Nolansson, James." The second guard seemed less frigid than the first, but still determined. "Get dressed."

The rest of the morning passed in a blur as James was brought before the Chief. The entire time he repeated over and over, "I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I swear I'm not guilty…" but no one listened to him. He was only the blacksmith's son in the eyes of the guard, despite how many of the poorer villagers were fond of him for how helpful he was, how generous he was with what little he had. But their opinions didn't matter.

The Chief wasn't a tall man, but he made up for it with his girth. "James Winter, you are the primary suspect for the murder of Moukka Nolansson," he boomed angrily before the entire village, who had gathered nervously to watch the proceedings.

"What is that supposed to mean? I didn't do it! There's no proof that I did it!"

One of the guards brought forth a large hammer stained dark. "Is that blood?"

No one answered him, instead the Chief pointed at it. "This was found near the scene of the crime. Is this not a tool from your father's forge?"

Looking closely at it, James's heart sank. "… Yes, it is. But—"

"Silence." The Chief held up his hand, and one of the guards behind James jerked his arm roughly.

"Do you plead guilty to murdering Trader Nolan's son in cold blood with one of your father's tools, the night before his planned wedding to my daughter?" Out of the corner of his eye, James could see his father openly sobbing, and his heart nearly broke.

"No! Look at the size of that hammer! How did I manage to do that? Moukka's practically twice my size. Do I look like I could take him in a fight?" People in the crowd began to murmur. It was true, Moukka was probably six and a half feet tall and quite bulky, while James was probably barely 6'1" and in his own opinion, disappointingly thin.

"_SILENCE!_" The Chief looked livid. "Do you know what you have done? You have murdered the future Chief of our tribe. Who will take his place? _You?_ Everyone knows of your interest in my daughter; you're the only one with the motivation to kill Moukka!"

"That is most likely untrue," James couldn't help but snap back. "He was a complete _ass_, who had little regard for the feelings of others! I wouldn't be surprised if _ten _people jumped him!"

"Insolent boy! The evidence is here with this hammer. Your father's stall is locked at night, is it not? Who else could have gotten in and taken it?"

"Anyone with any idea of how to pick a lock, or anyone who has the meager strength necessary to _break _said lock, which happens to be old and fragile."

"Are you not taking this seriously? You know what the punishment for murder is! And I'm beginning to think you protest _too much! _Wouldn't you agree, Elder?" The Chief looked over at the hunched over old man, who was clearly terrified.

"Uh—"

"You see! Even the Elder has decided!" James watched incredulously as the old man shrank back, obviously lacking the confidence to intervene.

"What? Are you _serious?_" James cried out. "Let's look over this scenario. I, small and weak James Winter, jumped the enormous Moukka in a fit of rage over his engagement to my unrequited love, using an equally enormous hammer that _anyone could have gotten their hands on _to kill him_. _Oh, and how do you explain me being in two places at once?"

"What do you mean?" the Chief demanded.

"Ask your _daughter _where I was last night," James said angrily, to many gasps of shock from the other villagers, and every head turned to look at Ihana, who seemed quite surprised to be the center of attention. _Even though she almost always is, _James thought meanly.

"How _dare _you imply that my daughter was anywhere other than her bed, _alone,_ last night!" The Chief was practically shrieking, his face mottled with rage. "Tell me, daughter, is this insolent whelp telling the truth?"

James stared at her, willing her to speak up, willing her to defend him. But she wouldn't look at him, and his heart sank. _So much for love. _

Even as she shook her head no, James shouted so that the whole village could hear him. "If so many of you are unwilling to see the obvious falsehoods at play here, then I clearly do not belong in this tribe of liars and cowards. I did not murder Moukka, and you cannot prove that I did, so if you kill me, _Chief,_ you lose all credibility and deserve to have your title revoked! I have nothing to say to the unimpeachable Ihana except for this: what comes around, goes around. I know perfectly well the other punishment reserved for criminals besides death and maiming, and I gladly accept it, knowing that you will not allow me to escape your verdict of guilt. Banish me to the wilderness if you wish, but know that if I die out there, I shall do so knowing of my own innocence! So release me now, so that I may gather what little I can carry on my back, and do not speak to me as I pass, for I have nothing left to say."

Everyone was completely stunned as James stepped out of the grasp of his guards, who let him go without any resistance. In silence, the crowd stepped aside as he walked through their midst, heading back to his home to gather some supplies.

Now, sitting in the clearing with the dawn's light spilling over the tree tops, he thought of the first few miserable weeks he'd spent, and not for the first time acknowledged how lucky he'd been to survive at all.

Since then, he'd steeled himself, hunting and trapping and constantly practicing with his few knives and his sword, mostly to allay the boredom and loneliness that so often accompanied him. At first, he really hadn't cared if he lived or died, but one night, as he lay in the dirt in the freezing rain, some instinct had kicked in. He wasn't prepared for this, after all, he'd spent his childhood and teenage years soft and sheltered, despite the death of his mother and the occasional dragon raid. But he'd survived out here, and after those initial weeks, he'd become accustomed to this new life. Where his camp was, the birds had grown used to his presence, and often perched nearby, waiting for him to toss them some scraps while they sang.

And now he was sitting in the dirt again, worrying about a _dragon_, and planning his day around caring for said dragon.

James somehow knew that his life had inexplicably and unexpectedly changed forever, but who was to say what that meant in the long run? After all, his death at the teeth and claws of the dragon could be imminent.

Unable to help the small smile on his face, he got to his feet, hopping up and down a few times to get his blood flowing into his freezing appendages.

A low growl echoed across the clearing, and his smile widened as he turned to face the cave. "Good morning to you, too. I'm going to move my camp up here, which might take a few trips, seeing as how you don't strike me as the most helpful of all creatures."

Another growl from the shadows. "I only speak the truth," he said, holding up his hands. "I'll be back, and then perhaps we can go fishing."

With that, he leaned down and scooped up his sword, scowling at the sap still stuck to the blade, and set off down the path of crushed branches and trampled earth that would take him in the direction of his camp.

He was right; it took him a few trips, and a few wrong turns, but eventually he had all of his meager possessions in the clearing. Most importantly his bed roll, some extra fabric to use as a tent or blanket, his pan, the large basket he used to carry food, and the many skins he had accumulated over time in the hopes of creating some more suitable clothes than the worn out tunics and pants he was currently wearing. Not to mention his mother's old sewing kit and the crude fishing spear he'd made, which would definitely come in handy today.

Inspecting his handiwork, he looked around at his modest camp and nodded, mostly satisfied. He'd gathered some extra firewood and stacked it neatly near his bedroll as well, and feeling prepared, he turned to look into the shadowed alcove where the dragon appeared to be sleeping.

"I know you're not asleep," he called over, and he got a loud grumble in response. "I'm going fishing, but first I want to see those cuts. So, if you wouldn't mind coming out where I can see you…"

James waited patiently while the dragon turned its head to glare at him, then slowly got to its feet and made its way into the bright sunlight. Again, James was stricken by the creature's unique black and purple coloring, not to mention the enormous claw on each wing that looked like it could easily slice him in half.

It let out a low growl and approached him, taking its time and sniffing the air.

"I don't have any food yet, but I'm planning on rectifying that as soon as possible. Alright, let's take a look." The dragon, after a long moment of hesitation, lifted its wing and he could see that the gashes already appeared significantly better. _Mother was a genius. _"Those look much better. Do they feel better?"

Another growl. "A talkative one, aren't you? Fine by me, I can talk enough for the both of us. Alright, at some point we need to wash those out and put fresh salve on them, so either I can bring water up here, or you can save me a lot of time and effort and come with me to the river. It's up to you, of course, but you'll also get more fish by going down there yourself."

The dragon, while still suspicious, appeared to consider his words. "You decide, I imagine you'll be able to find me if you want to." James scooped up his fishing spear and sword, because you never know when you might need a sword, and hoisted his basket onto his back.

He meandered back down the path the dragon had created, listening for the rush of water, and soon enough he came out at the wide stretch of river he had already crossed several times that morning. He removed his boots, before shrugging and pulling off his pants and tunic as well. No one was out here to see him in his underwear besides the occasional squirrel or bird, so why not? Plus, he wanted to swim a bit. The water was chilly, but he quickly became acclimated to it, and dove beneath the surface, opening his eyes in the clear water to see a decent number of fish swimming about.

Coming back up to breathe, James blinked the water out of his eyes and was mildly surprised to see the dragon sitting next to the rock he had set his clothes, weapons, and basket on. "Well, hello! The water's a bit cold, but I imagine you don't mind that. Come on in, and rinse off that salve."

He could swear the dragon looked almost nervous. "What's the matter, can't swim?" The creature glared at him, before glancing back at the water, apparently thinking hard. Finally, it appeared to sigh, dipped one paw into the water, testing it, then slowly allowed itself to slide in the rest of the way. Keeping its head above the water, it glared at him, as if saying, _Now what? _

James swam over to where it sat. "Do you mind if I help you get it off?" The dragon didn't make any threatening noises, and even raised itself out of the water and lifted its wing, so he figured he'd be fine. He placed his hands on the creature's side and something like static electricity zapped his skin, causing him to pull back quickly. "What the—"

He looked up at the creature's face, and it looked almost apologetic. "Is that on purpose?" he asked incredulously.

It shrugged slightly, which didn't much help James out. "Okay, well… is it going to happen again?"

Again, it shrugged, so he squared his shoulders and, after some hesitation, lightly pressed his palms back onto the dragon's hide. Nothing happened, and he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. _Well, that's interesting. _

Gently, he splashed water onto the gashes and rinsed off the salve. The creature sighed, surprising him. "What?"

It growled. "Never mind, then."

After he was finished, James crawled up onto the riverbank to grab his spear and stood, dripping, in the shallows, waiting for something to swim by. Finally, a fat silver fish meandered within range, and quickly he struck, driving his spear through the water to catch it.

"A-ha!" he crowed, turning to show his prize to the dragon, which rolled its eyes and glanced behind itself to the grass, where there were probably a dozen large fish piled up already.

James felt his jaw drop. "No fair! Obviously you don't need any help from me," he sniffed, pretending that his feelings were hurt, and the dragon rolled its eyes again, turning back to dive back into the river. He watched, curious, as the creature surfaced with three more fish in its jaws, dropping them unceremoniously onto the pile.

"You want to share some of those with me?" It looked over at him and scowled. "I mean it! You've got fifteen fish and I've got one." It snorted, then turned away, sinking below the surface of the water.

"Whatever," James grumbled, not truly upset. They spent the rest of the afternoon there, both coming up with respectable numbers of fish. The dragon, of course, had exponentially more, but it also probably needed to eat more than James did.

Finally, noticing the sun setting, he stretched out his arms, feeling his skin tighten where he probably had a bit of a sunburn. _Oops. _"All right, you ready to head back up? I'll carry as many of the fish as I can in the basket, can you get the rest?"

The dragon glanced over at him lazily, already having eaten half of its catch, and nodded slowly. James quickly dressed, tucking his sword into his belt, then scooped all of the fish he could into the basket, which creaked as he lifted it up to carry on his back. They made their way back up the trail in companionable silence, though James's back ached from leaning over the water all day and then carrying the damn basket. But he wasn't grumpy at all. On the contrary, he was feeling more positive than he had in a long time. By the time the sun set, he had roasted a few of his fish on the end of a sharp stick, and was laying back on his bedroll, feeling stuffed. He heard the dragon's footfalls as it wandered back to its cave, fresh salve on its side, and a slight smile crossed his lips. He had, if not a friend, an acquaintance that he could pass the time with. At least, until it was healed enough to leave, which it probably would do soon. He refused to let that bring him down, though. He'd be grateful for whatever the gods decided to bestow upon him, whether it be a friend in the form of a dragon or a swift demise at the claws and teeth of said dragon. Still smiling, he drifted off into sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later, James was gutting a few fish, talking at the dragon lounging in front of the cave entrance.

"What do you think you're going to do once your side is better? I think you could probably fly now if you felt like it; the gashes look _loads _better than they did the other night." Characteristically, it ignored him, and James couldn't help the strange sinking of his heart at the thought of the dragon leaving. _Don't be ridiculous. It's a wild creature, that more likely than not will kill you and devour you before leaving this place. _James frowned, before pointing out to the snide voice in the back of his mind, _Maybe not; it prefers fish._

He turned away to slowly sink his knife into a fat silver fish when he heard shouts. _That couldn't be good. _As far as he knew, he was the only one out here, except for the dragon, which had ended up here after being hunted by humans. Which probably meant that whoever they were, they were after the creature now sitting upright in the sun, looking on edge.

For some reason, he didn't like that idea. _Why not? It's dangerous. Why not let someone else take care of it, and you can get back to your life. Your lonely, meaningless life. _He scowled, mirroring the dragon's expression.

"Hide!" he hissed at it, waving his arms. "Get back in your cave!" Turning around, he quickly strapped his sword to his waist, narrowing his eyes at a tiny spot of sap still on the blade. _Damn it_. Quickly he sat back down next to the small pile of fish, grabbing the one he had been gutting and continuing his work, trying to look focused. Not a moment too soon, for the sounds of swearing and loud footsteps were approaching.

Three large men burst into the clearing, and immediately their gazes landed on him, casually preparing his dinner. James didn't recognize any of them from the village, and briefly he wondered who they were and why they had come to this island.

"Hey, kid!" One of them called out roughly, beginning to stomp over.

He looked up, feigning surprise. "Me?"

"Yeah, you," the man said with disdain. "We're looking for a monster. We followed its trail here, have you seen it?"

"Why, I can't say I have. I followed a wounded bear here a few days ago, but he got away."

The man looked around suspiciously at the old bloodstains on the ground and large scrape marks in the dirt, and James winced internally, wondering why the Hel he hadn't thought to clean them up. "You're telling me _you _were chasing down a bear. And that bear made _this _mess."

"Yes?"

"Listen, kid," the man growled, reaching down and grabbing him by the collar before lifting him swiftly to his feet, causing James to drop his fish and knife. "I don't like being screwed with. Understand?"

"Completely."

"Now, did you or did you not see a monster?"

"You mean besides yourself?"

The man drew back and punched him hard in the stomach. Coughing, he doubled over and fell to his knees, gasping for breath. A kick to the side followed, which he vaguely suspected might have broken a rib or two, knocking him flat onto the ground. The man leaned over him again. "Now, I'm—"

A loud growl echoed around the clearing, and the men quickly drew their swords and hammers, momentarily forgetting him. As they stepped around him, he inched his hand across the dirt, reaching for his sword, which had fallen from his belt.

"What was that?" one of the large men asked, sounding quite stupid in James's humble opinion.

"I think it came from over there," the leader said, pointing with his hammer at the shadowy cave entrance.

_Please don't come out, please let them look somewhere else… _James wrapped his hand firmly around the base of his sword, pushing himself up off the ground and ignoring the sharp pain in his side. He couldn't let them hurt the dragon.

As quietly could, he snuck up behind them, preparing one of his throwing knives, just as the shape of the dragon appeared in the cave entrance.

"There!" the leader shouted, and they rushed forward. The dragon emerged farther, hissing with a deeply angry scowl on its face. _Time's up_, James thought, and without pause he released the knife, which sliced through the air and sunk itself deeply into the muscle where the leader's neck met his shoulder. He screamed in agony, turning with rage to see James standing calmly with his sword raised across the clearing.

"You two take care of the beast, it's wounded," he spat, reaching up to yank the knife out of his shoulder and throwing it to the ground with a grimace before stalking back towards James. James watched with horror as the two enormous men rushed the dragon, but then the leader was upon him and he was forced to duck out of the way of his massive hammer.

As he danced around the increasingly frustrated man, James kept the dragon in the corner of his eye, wondering how in the world he was supposed to finish off this brute and rescue the creature. He heard a scream but couldn't turn to see who it came from or why, and he hoped fervently that the dragon was eating both men slowly and with pleasure.

The leader kept swinging at James, who was doing his best to conserve his own strength despite the growing pain in his side.

"Stand still, you little bastard," the man growled at him, bringing his hammer down hard where James had been standing just seconds before. "You can't run forever!"

He was right. James forced himself to focus, ignoring the growls and shouts coming from behind him. The man was clearly favoring the side James had thrown his knife at, and a wide blood stain had blossomed on his grimy tunic. James knew his own chances of survival were slim to none, but he also knew he couldn't go down without a fight. The leader swung again, and while his arm was overextended, James darted in and stabbed at his with his sword before leaping out of the way again. He hadn't dealt the man a mortal blow, but he had made contact with the man's side, which was now bleeding. Snarling, the man jumped in James's direction, and he repeated the motion, stabbing him again with the tip of his sword. James knew that he'd have to kill the man eventually if he wanted to survive, but he found himself hesitant to do so. He wasn't a killer.

Bleeding from three different wounds, the leader's face was a mask of rage. "I'm… going… to… _murder _you!" he shouted harshly, but this time when he swung his hammer, James spun around and slashed his sword across the man's forearm, causing him to drop his hammer and scream, holding his injured arm close.

"Had enough?" James asked, trying to sound less tired than he actually was.

"Never," the man growled, and he leapt forward faster than James could raise his sword to defend himself. He grabbed James by his neck and lifted him up, and choking, James managed to lift his blade and sink it into his chest. Not deeply enough, though, and enraged, the man punched him in the face, sending him flying to land hard on the ground.

On his back, James saw stars, and blackness threatened to overcome his vision. He could see well enough, though, as the leader of the men, covered in his own blood, came forward, raising his hammer with an evil smile. "No more games, you little shit. Time's up."

James refused to look away, forcing himself to stay lucid and face his death with honor, but right when the man's arm was fully extended, prepared to strike, an unearthly shriek pierced the air, causing James to grimace. _What the… the dragon. _

"No!" James cried, rolling over just in time to see the dragon sweep one of the men out of the way with its wing. It didn't appear to be injured, though. Almost in slow motion, James watched it begin to glow with a strange white energy, before shooting it straight across the clearing at the man bringing his hammer down towards him, catching the brute in a bolt of lightning. The screams of the creature and the man mingled for a second, before the stream of electricity ceased and the man was thrown roughly back, body smoking.

James felt his jaw drop, and for a moment he just stared at the man's form, which lay unmoving. His gaze turned slowly back to the dragon, roaring at the last man standing, who looked absolutely petrified. The creature lifted its wing to slice at him, and without waiting another moment he turned and ran, dropping his weapon as he fled with multiple bloody cuts along his torso. He crashed back into the forest, back to wherever he had come from.

Unsteadily, he got to his feet, swaying slightly, and he stumbled towards the man with the hammer. His body was raw and burned, and he was definitely not alive. Which was probably fortunate for all parties involved, because he had been quite a determined fighter, and those burns looked immensely painful.

Which begged the question, what kind of dragon did _that_? James turned back to see the dragon inspecting the fallen, bloody form of the second man, sniffing it before snorting and raising its head to stare at James.

But it wasn't scowling for once. It actually looked concerned, and moved to approach him. James couldn't help but put his hands up and step backwards, and the creature paused, looking confused.

"Hang on, just one minute," James choked out. "You just shot _lightning _from your _body_." He shook his head in disbelief, and the dragon's expression changed from concern back to boredom, as though saying, _So? _

"So…" James walked over to where his throwing knife lay abandoned on the ground, shakily reaching down and slipping it back into its place on his hip.

When he looked up, he suddenly felt extremely nauseous, and found himself leaning forward to empty his stomach onto the dirt, before slowly falling backwards, his vision blurring. The last thing he knew was a shadow falling over him, before everything went dark.


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of breaking waves brought James back to consciousness. _Waves? _He opened his eyes to find himself laying in grass, with a pounding headache. Groaning, he sat up, wondering where he was and how he had gotten there.

He realized his left eye wasn't open as wide as his right, and it all came rushing back. Fighting off those thugs, getting beat up, all for the sake of a dragon. _Speaking of the dragon… _James looked around, trying to get some sense of his surroundings. He was near the ocean, but the space itself was completely unfamiliar, visible only by the light of the full moon. Besides the slight motion of the grass in the sea breeze, nothing else moved, and he figured he was alone. He couldn't decide if he was pleased or disappointed by this development.

With another groan, he got to his feet. He was a long way from that clearing, he knew that, and therefore a long way from all of his worldly possessions. Frowning, he stumbled through the trees and soon came upon a small beach, a crescent of sand catching the small breakers that reflected the bright moonlight. In the distance, James could see a dark, uneven shape along the horizon, almost concealed by a long bank of storm clouds, and he wondered again where exactly he was.

A grumbling noise caught his attention, and slowly he turned, hand reaching to his hip, where he noted with relief his three throwing knives were still in place.

It was the dragon.

"Well, hello," James said tiredly, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck.

It grumbled again.

"Are you alright?"

It nodded.

James realized that he had been referring to the dragon as "it" for days, when 'it' definitely had a personality, and probably a specific gender.

"What are you?" he asked suddenly, and it looked mildly confused.

"Well, are you male or female? And what kind of dragon are you, even? And where did you come from?" James found himself voicing all of his questions, but the dragon just rolled its eyes. _Dragons can't talk, stupid, _the voice in his head informed him_. _

"Okay. Obviously you can't answer my questions. At least, are you a male? I can't call you 'it' forever."

It— _he_ nodded.

"Good to know, I guess."

For a moment they sat in silence, when another question came to mind.

"Are you going to kill me?" James finally brought himself to ask what he had been wondering since first meeting the dragon.

He looked mildly surprised, then thoughtful, before shaking his head.

"Well, that's a relief, I guess. What are we going to do now?"

He shrugged.

"Where are we? Are we even still on the island?"

The dragon shook his head, gesturing with his wing towards the smudge on the horizon.

"_That's_ the island? You carried me all the way over here? Don't you know I'm technically supposed to die there? After all, I _am _a despicable and impossibly capable murderer."

He rolled his eyes, looking at James as though he was a complete idiot. Which, he might just be.

"Smart move, though. Whoever those men were, they probably had friends, who probably won't be terribly happy about their deaths." James thought for a moment. "And… I hesitate to ask this, but since you carried me all the way here, does this mean we're traveling together now? Because I will probably die here alone. I might die anyways, actually, without any supplies."

Without responding, the dragon got to his feet, and turned, making its way into the small wooded area. James followed him back to where he had woken up, to see him looking pointedly a few feet away from where he had been lying.

There, clearly visible in the moonlight, were his basket and his sword.

James looked at the dragon, astonished. "You… you brought those, too?"

He shrugged, and James couldn't help his small laugh. "You're surprisingly thoughtful."

The dragon growled at that, but it was halfhearted at best, and James smiled at him. "Thank you."

The next day passed uneventfully. James had fallen asleep on the shore in the soft sand, thankful that the air was balmy, because while the dragon had somehow brought his basket along, he had not managed to grab his bedroll.

When James awoke, the dragon wasn't there, but he wasn't too worried. He had long ago reconciled himself to his eventual death. But later, as he watched the lightning storm rage over the island, his _home, _he saw a dark shape leave the clouds and fly in his direction.

_What was the dragon doing flying around in a storm? _When he finally landed on the beach, looking surprisingly refreshed, James found himself asking.

After a pause, the dragon turned to face the ocean and stiffened its entire body. Before James's eyes, his body began to glow, then he opened his mouth, shooting out a small bolt of lightning over the water.

His hide dimmed, and he turned back to meet James's stare.

"So… you're a lightning dragon. Or something. And you fly around in storms… to get more lightning?"

He nodded, but before James could say anything, the dragon stiffened again, looking over his head. Alarmed, James spun around, eyes searching the horizon.

"What…" Then he saw it. A tiny ship, coming around the distant edge of the larger island. "Something tells me those aren't going to be friends of ours." The dragon growled.

"What do we do?" he turned to look at the dragon, who was scowling. Meeting James's gaze, he gestured to the sky with one wing, revealing the fresh scars on his side.

"You want… to leave?"

The dragon nodded. After a second of deliberation, James supposed he had no choice if he wanted to survive.

"Let me grab my basket."

* * *

><p>They had been flying for days now, every on every small piece of land they encountered so that James could forage for food.<p>

On the beach, when James had returned with his basket and sword, he saw that the ship was closer, and turned to the dragon. "How are we going to do this?"

The dragon frowned a bit. "I imagine you carried me here with your feet, but I'd rather not cozy up to those claws if I don't have to."

Finally, after a long moment of deliberation, the dragon lowered himself close to the ground.

"So… I'm going to ride you? A dragon. I'm going to ride a dragon."

A growl. "Okay, okay…" Hesitantly, he pulled himself over the creature's neck. "None of that lightning business while I'm up here, got it?"

He snorted, but as he crouched to take off, James shouted, "Wait!" He awkwardly slid back to the ground, reaching around to dig through his basket, finally pulling out a length of rope.

"I have to have something to hold onto," he informed the dragon, who didn't look pleased. But looking over his shoulder, James could see the ship growing larger. "Just deal with it." Hastily he knotted it around the dragon's neck, climbing back up in front of the large spikes on its back.

"Okay," he said nervously. "Let's do this."

After a terrifying take-off, James finally opened his eyes to see that they were flying between puffy white clouds, the mid-morning sun shining cheerfully around them.

James's nerves abated over the next few days, as they flew away from the only home he had ever known, towards some unknown destination. He hoped Sahko knew where he was going. For he had finally decided that he had to call the dragon something, and figured that "electricity" was quite fitting.

"Sahko," he called down, and the dragon grunted. "There's a ship down there."

The dragon shrugged, and they stuck to the clouds until they had left it far behind. But not long after, James spotted another, heading in the same direction.

"There's another one. Where are they going?"

Sahko shrugged again, which did not comfort James in the slightest. Over the next day, they saw three more ships, all heading towards the same point on the horizon.

And finally, James had his first glimpse of Merirosvo.

Merirosvo, the island of pirates, and the place he would come to call his home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Don't worry, you haven't missed anything. Some time has passed :)**

* * *

><p>James walked along the seemingly endless docks, passing the countless creaking ships with their skeleton crews. Ignoring the cries of the beggars, he stepped around the bodies of passed out drunks who had fallen into the street the night before. Gammel had sent him a note, for which he had wordlessly thanked the terrified looking messenger with a few coins. Not everyone had the daring to approach his camp in the jungle, where Sahko often lounged in the open.<p>

Finally, he reached the run-down hut on the edge of town, and rapped his gloved knuckles lightly on the door. After a few seconds, a wrinkled old man opened it, revealing several missing teeth with a grin.

"'Ello, Winter," he said cheerfully.

"Hello, Vitur. Is Gammel home?"

"She's in the back. Said she had something for you."

"I got her note. Here, I brought you some herbs." Quickly he instructed the old man on how to make a tea to help the aching in his joints.

"James?" a voice called out through a doorway.

"Here, Gammel."

"Come on back."

Receiving a pat on the back from a smiling Vitur, James stepped through the low doorway into the dimly lit back room of Gammel and Vitur's hut. Gammel was digging around in a large chest, which James had learned long ago held all sorts of interesting things, some valuable, some deceivingly useless.

"There are a few biscuits on the counter, eat! You're too skinny, James." He smiled, and didn't bother protesting. She knew that he had filled out significantly over the last two years, although she still believed that he was still far too thin. He would have to agree with her. It seemed that he was destined to remain this slim, though that didn't mean he was weak. No, definitely not weak.

He grabbed a warm biscuit off the plate and slowly ate it, wondering how she managed to make them so delicious with her few ingredients.

Still rummaging around with a few loud clanks, Gammel finally turned around, holding a large bundle in her arms.

"I heard about your sword, James."

James tried not to grimace. His old sword, which had been at his side through thick and thin, had finally shattered last night while he parried a blow from some giant with a hammer during one of the many bar fights that broke out regularly in the taverns on Merirosvo.

He had used the hilt of his broken sword to knock the idiot out, quickly gathering every last shard of the blade in the midst of the wild brawling and escaping to the blacksmith's, who let him in without a word despite the lateness of the hour.

The very reserved but enormous Sven had taken him on as an apprentice at the urging of Gammel when James had first arrived on Merirosvo, starving and desperate. As his apprentice, James completed the education he had received from his father and learned to craft with all kinds of unfamiliar and exotic materials.

Despite his and James's skill, the sword was very clearly broken beyond repair. Deeply disappointed, James had thanked his old mentor and made his way back to his camp, kicking at debris in the street.

When the note had arrived from Gammel early that morning, James had bid farewell to a grumbling Sahko. "I'll be back later, promise. Maybe there'll even be a bounty posted."

Now, he couldn't help his frown. "Yeah, it's a shame. I suppose I'll have to craft a new one soon." The numerous knives hidden around his person often came in handy, but were not replacements for a real sword.

"I procured this from a rather shady character on one of the last ships," she said mysteriously, holding out the bundle to James. That didn't surprise him, as "shady" was the kindest term to describe the "traders" who came to the island.

The bundle was surprisingly heavy, and James unwrapped it quickly, revealing a large, gleaming hunk of metal.

"Is this silver?"

"No," she responded. "Silver is too soft to make a decent weapon."

James nodded. "What is it, then?"

"He didn't say. All he told us about it was that it was harder than steel, so good for weapons and armor. It was his thanks for a hot meal. He was probably just trying to get rid of it as quickly as possible, if I had to guess based on his extreme agitation, but I held onto it anyways. Good thing I did; seems like you could use it."

"Harder than steel, huh?" James pulled out a knife and dragged the blade along the metal, which didn't leave a scratch. "I'll definitely give it a shot. How much do you want for it?"

"Oh, don't be silly, James."

"No, really. I insist."

"After all you've done for Vitur and I? I don't think so. Take it," she said firmly. James had _taken care _of some pirates who had been harassing the old couple a while back, and warned off every other person on the island. They were under his protection, and no one was willing to mess with Winter.

"Really. Let me at least fix your roof."

"No, Vitur—"

"Has a bad back. Really, it shouldn't take me more than a few hours. Remember last time it rained? You had a dozen buckets filled to the brim in here," he pointed out, and Gammel scowled at him.

"You remind me of Sahko when you look like that," he informed her, and her frown disappeared with her laugh.

"Very well, James. You can fix the roof if you want to so badly. I'll call you down when lunch is ready. There should be supplies in the back shed; let me know if you need anything else."

James grinned at her, resting the hunk of metal on the table next to the biscuits and bending over to cross back into the front part of the cozy little home. Vitur was sitting in his worn out chair by the fire, sipping some tea, and he smiled at James as he passed. "You're too kind to us, Winter," he said, and James shook his head.

"No, Vitur. You are too kind to me, to treat me like a human being. I owe you everything." The old man had found James begging for food, and rather than ignore him, he had invited him back to his home, where he and Gammel fed him and gave him a place to spend the night. After hearing certain parts of his story (he left out Sahko for the time being) and not immediately expelling him from their house upon hearing that he had been banished by his people as a murderer, Gammel had suggested that they speak to the town blacksmith about an apprenticeship.

"You're a bit old, but if you really have already been trained, Sven should find some use for you." She was right, and over the next year James built up strength and stamina repairing weapons and armor and constructing parts for ships from early in the morning until late at night, vanishing into the jungle rather than sleep in the town, but always returning the next day. The bulky-looking Sven, surprisingly enough, was extraordinarily adept with a sword, and he eventually taught James to wield his weapon more effectively with regular sparring sessions.

All in all, James was one lucky bastard, and that was proven yet again when he found himself being held up by a couple of pirate thugs who thought they could intimidate him into giving them free weapons from the forge. Instead, James gave them a free taste of his blade, sending the message that he should be taken seriously. With that act, he also cemented his place in the town, which was rife with such thugs, pirates, murderers, and their ilk, who held no respect for honor, only for capability. And James, as it turned out, was quite capable, indeed.

About a year in, he was approached by a "shady character" as Gammel would have described him, and asked to _get rid_ of a visitor in town, who happened to be terrorizing the local barmaids.

Now that he was thinking about it, the story was actually a pretty intense one. At first, James scoffed at the notion of taking on any adversary, until it was pointed out to him that he had done so several times. Finally he had decided, _why not?_, asking Sahko to wish him luck, and had gone after the target one night after he left the forge as the man was in the act of dragging a screaming woman through a bar fight to his room in the inn. His intention was to get the man to leave the island, nothing more.

After asking him politely to let the woman go, and being laughed at, James had thrown a knife at the enormous man, slicing through his bicep and pinning his sleeve to the dense wooden wall. Angered, the target had released the woman, who ran without a word fled back down the stairs, and tried to yank his arm free, but his coat was too thick and tight for him to be able to reach around and grab the short hilt of the knife. After a moment of struggling, he simply tore his arm free, ripping a large hole out of his sleeve.

"I'm going to ask you to leave Merirosvo, now, and never return."

"Fuck off," he had growled, rushing at James. James had simply stepped out of the way, and the man barreled past him, crashing into the balcony railing and causing it to creak and lean dangerously. James got a whiff of him as he stumbled past, and shook his head. _The idiot is completely intoxicated. _Re-focusing, he walked over to where the man was getting unsteadily to his feet.

"Look, I don't want trouble—" The man lashed out with his meaty arm, knocking James off his feet. Out of nowhere a long, wicked-looking blade flashed in the uneven light of the hall, and James barely rolled backwards out of the way in time to avoid getting his head chopped off.

_I guess trouble seems to want me, _he thought drily as he leapt back to his feet, ducking out of the way as the man slashed at him again.

Listening to the brawl downstairs, which still seemed to be going on strong, James pushed open a door and found himself standing in a darkened room. The bed however, appeared to be occupied.

"Wha—" a sleepy voice came from the blankets, but before James could apologize and encourage the person to go back to sleep, the large man appeared in the doorway.

"I've got you now," he sneered, but before he could shove his way into the room, James quickly ran at him, catching him by surprise. He jumped up, grabbed the top of the doorjamb and swung himself through boots first, kicking the man hard in the chest and sending him flying back.

Landing on his feet, James decided that he needed to take this fight somewhere else. He waited a moment for his drunk target to get back on his feet, before smiling cheekily and taking off towards the stairs. Hearing a roar, he ducked on the second step and watched, amazed, as the man sailed over his head, falling face first down the stairs with a resounding crash.

Everything stopped in the tavern. All eyes were on James as he stood upright, and cheerfully he waved at the men holding each other by the throat, the musicians who had halted their playing, and the bartender slowly pouring his pitcher onto the ground.

"Well?" James called out to them. "Get back to it!" At his encouragement, everyone let out a roar of approval and the brawl resumed full force. James made his way down the stairs, dodging a glass that flew past his head and shattered against the wall. At the bottom of the stairs, the man was getting up, completely enraged, blood dripping from his nose. His once nice clothes were torn and filthy, and James resisted the urge to laugh at him.

"I think you should leave," he said casually, gesturing to the door. Instead of replying, the man snarled, sounding an awful lot like Sahko, who James was really quite eager to get back to. Slowly, he drew an even longer blade from a sheath at his hip that James had failed to notice.

"So that's how you want to play?" James asked. "Very well." Quickly he drew his own sword, tossing it from hand to hand. The man ran up at him, sword raised, but James had the higher ground, and easily countered his strike, spinning around and kicking him in the face. He fell back down the stairs with another crash, and people nearby slowly ceased their own personal brawls to watch the sword fight taking place.

"Come, now, you'll have to do better than that," James lightly scolded him, before gesturing at the door once more. "The exit is thataway, in case you've changed your mind."

The target wiped his nose with his sleeve, wincing as he got back up to his feet. This time, though, he didn't rush James. Instead, he watched him for a moment, as if trying to gauge his weaknesses.

James opened his arms and gestured at himself. "Nothing particularly dangerous about me besides my sobriety," he said, and the man scowled, lifting his sword. Without warning he ran at James, who, rather than block, grabbed the banister and swung himself over onto the floor next to the stairs.

In no time the large man ran back down the stairs, hacking and slashing at James, clearly trying to wear him out. But James simply stepped out of the way, occasionally lifting his own blade to parry a sloppy strike. After a few minutes, all the fighting around them had ceased, and the opponents found themselves in the middle of an empty circle in the center of the room, with the rest of the people crowded around them.

"Show it to 'im, Winter!"

"Get 'im!"

"Send 'im off, Winter!"

James was honestly surprised at the show of support. He figured that the natives must now consider him one of them. After all, he supposed, he'd been there long enough. Not only that, but the larger man's treatment of the local women who _weren't _prostitutes and some of the women who _were_ was a matter of serious contention, apparently, which had been stressed by the character who had commissioned James to get rid of the brute in the first place.

So, James worked his magic. In a matter of minutes, he had the man on his knees, the seat of his pants torn open, his sword stuck in the far wall, and his face (under the blood) was bright red with exertion and anger.

With the tip of his blade gently pressed against the man's throat, and he himself barely sweating from the fight, James asked him just loudly enough to be heard, "Had enough?"

"Kill 'im, Winter!"

"He don't deserve to live!"

"Slice 'im open! Run 'im through!"

_My goodness, pirates are a bloodthirsty bunch, _James thought with very little real surprise.

Finally, the drunk man nodded slowly, his expression murderous. Satisfied, James stepped back, lowering his sword, much to the disappointment of the crowd.

The humiliated man stumbled to his feet, turning and shoving his way through the throng of people who booed him out. Once he was gone, everyone turned to look at James as he sheathed his sword.

"What?" he asked, right before they swarmed him, cheering his name. For a hours they handed him drinks, women often pulling him up to dance, as his victory had for the evening eased all hostilities in the taproom of the inn.

Finally, declining three more drinks (he'd barely had two sips the entire night), James stood, excusing himself.

"Aw, Winter, it's still early!" one woman pouted, and he laughed.

"Aye, but I'll be getting up before the sun tomorrow to work, so I think I'd be best off heading home. Thank you all," he called out to the people, waving one hand in gratitude. As he stepped outside, he rubbed his hands at the chill, noting that while the entire town was still alive and awake, Sahko would be grumpy that he was coming back so late. _He can't be pleased,_ James thought fondly, before following the walkway for a few minutes to the edge of the jungle, where without a backward glance he stepped into the thick foliage, threading his way between trees and bushes and stepping carefully over vines.

As he walked to their camp, James wondered what would happen if the townspeople discovered he had a dragon hidden in the jungle. Especially a dragon like Sahko. He did his best to take the storm dragon out at night for flights, but he knew that Sahko was usually bored during the day.

He'd been in the dense forest for a while now, so he knew he was close. "Sahko?" he called out. "I'm ho—"

A big meaty hand clamped down over his mouth, and James felt the cold edge of a blade against his throat. A low chuckle came from behind him, and he caught a whiff of strong spirits. _The target_, he thought with a sinking heart. _How had he not heard him following him through the trees?_ Frustrated at his lack of care, James almost didn't mind that he was probably going to die. _What would Sahko do? _he wondered briefly, before dismissing the idea. _The dragon would probably take off within half a minute of finding his corpse. _The thought made him chuckle, and the man roughly jerked his head.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," he mumbled against the man's sweaty palm, and earned himself a cuff to the side of his head, but the man's hand landed heavily on his shoulder rather than returning to his face.

James found himself being spun around to come face to face with the target, who looked livid. "There's no one out here to hear you _scream,_" he said harshly. "Any last words?" James could now clearly see the knife in the man's hand.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed behind James, followed by an unearthly growl.

"What… what was that?" the man said nervously, his hold on James loosening.

James couldn't help his smirk. "There _is _someone else out here, and I'm sure he'd love to meet you. Face," he suddenly leaned in close to the man, "to face." He jerked himself free of the man's grasp and threw himself to the side just as a dark blur smashed through the bushes behind him, careening directly into the man, who screamed in terror.

The screams continued, and James got to his feet, rubbing his fingers along the cut the man's blade had made on the skin of his throat. A few yards away, he was able to see Sahko's spiny back as he subdued James's would-be murderer. Walking over to them, he listened to the man's desperate cries.

"What is this thing?! _Get it off me!_ Somebody, help me! Please!" he caught sight of James and begged for his life, hands scrabbling against Sahko's clawed foot where it was pressed into his chest. "Please, let me go! I swear I'll leave! Just don't let it eat me!"

James crouched next to him, tapping his chin. "And why should I give you another chance? You'll just go somewhere else and act how you did here."

Realizing that James wasn't feeling terribly merciful, the man began shouting for help again. James felt his expression darken, and did nothing to change it. He leaned in close, and Sahko mirrored the movement, growling.

"There's no one out here to hear you scream."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello friends! Since reviews are few and far between, I figured it wouldn't hurt to respond to them :) so...**

**Vvarden: Sorry I didn't respond to your review on the last chapter! Yes, James is a grown up and his story is mostly forgrown ups. I'm glad you like it so far! (And yes... Sahko is a Skrill, though James has never even heard of one before.)**

**Magnor: Thank you!**

**EB: I appreciate your praise! I hope that you will enjoy where it goes, and how it fits in with the sequel. **

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><p>The next morning, people had awoken to the sight of a filthy, bloodstained man hanging upside down from the dilapidated sign of the shabby inn, babbling incoherently about monsters. James stood below him, arms crossed, blood from the cut on his neck having dripped down onto the collar of his tunic.<p>

"What's the meanin' o' this, Winter?" the innkeeper had cried out, but James waited until most of the town had gathered in the surrounding streets.

"This man followed me back to my camp last night and attempted to murder me. I know that there is no honor among thieves, but at the very least, learn from him." He pointed up at the strange slash marks lining the man's torso. "In case you were wondering, I did not make those marks. If you have a problem with me, you should know that you'll be taking it up not only with me, but with the reason I have camped in the jungle this past year."

Finishing his speech, James pulled out a small knife and threw it up at the rope suspending the crazed man's limp body, slicing through it and sending him crashing to the ground. Picking up the knife off the ground, he wiped the blade on his tunic and stepped away from the inn, allowing several sailors to hurry in and carry their babbling acquaintance away. The crowd murmured around him, and James noticed with satisfaction that people were staring in his direction with no small amount of awe, and just a touch of fear. As he rounded the corner, following the street to the blacksmith's, a hooded figure came up beside him, resting a hand on his arm. It was the man who had commissioned James in the first place, and he had with him a small pouch.

"You've earned it," he said, tossing it at James, before disappearing back into the throngs of people.

That was the first money James made as a bounty hunter. Well, he was more of a mercenary, as employers tended to seek him out. He found himself in high demand, especially once knowledge of Sahko had gotten around. Merirosvo was not located in a region known for dragon raids, so the native townspeople were not initially terrified or outraged by the fact that there was a dragon hidden somewhere in the jungle. Rather, people seemed to take it in stride, granting James as much respect as could be garnered beyond what he already earned as a warrior.

Now that he was flying Sahko off the island for jobs, James finally decided to construct a saddle, taking the dragon's measurements and enlisting Sven's help with the design. After his second close call with a knife at his throat, he also decided that he needed some armor. He just couldn't tolerate bulky metal plates, though. He was strong enough to wear them, he just didn't like how loud and noticeable they were, or how they restricted movement. So, with Sven and Gammel's assistance, he sewed together a few sets of black tunics and pants, made a few black leather belts, and spent a great deal of his free time perfecting thin, lightweight plates and chain mail that he could attach together to form a sort of armor framework, that would cover all the important bits while still allowing him to move. Deciding against a helmet, he simply attached a hood to his tunics with a mask built in that he could lift to cover the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes visible.

His specialty was hunting down wanted criminals. _Well, criminals _more_ wanted than the usual visitors to Merirosvo. _He was good at avoiding notice in crowded areas, astute enough to gather information on the whereabouts of his targets, and skilled enough with his blade to subdue even the most fearsome of opponents. It also didn't hurt to have a lightning-shooting dragon on his side. Sahko came to his aid on a few memorable occasions, and generally worked to discourage captive targets from trying to escape. The dragon had his fun intimidating the living Hel out of them, before not-so-gently carrying them back to Merirosvo in his clawed feet.

James didn't really get any pleasure out of his work, only a grim sort of satisfaction. He brought justice to real criminals and falsely-accused innocents by collecting evidence and hunting down the true perpetrators of crimes. _What would Mother and Father think of me now? _he often wondered, before pushing them from his mind. Mother was dead, and his father was dead to him now, as well.

Instead, he allowed himself to grow fond of Gammel, Vitur, and Sven. He repaid their generosity over and over, _taking care _of people who gave them trouble, performing various odd jobs of mixed importance for them, and using his increasingly weighty reputation to offer them protection against the usual _shady _visitors of Merirosvo.

Now, carefully balanced on the roof of the rundown hut, James pried off old, rotting shingles and tossed them to the ground, replacing them with fresh ones. Hammer in hand, he sat back, twirling a slender nail between the fingers of his free hand as he gazed over the harbor town, which was already awake and bustling. The docks weren't too far away, and he watched as sailors clambered through the rigging, obeying shouted orders with affirmative shouts of their own.

The fresh smell of the salty sea air was carried on the breeze along with the rank smell of the gutters and the stink of fish, which James barely even noticed anymore. Merirosvo was truly a home to him. _Well, as much of a home as it could be._ The rampant debauchery of the night and the corrupt dealings of the day simply didn't appeal to him, and the other inhabitants as regular visitors of the town knew better than to give him any trouble about it. He was hardened, often as grumpy as Sahko, but had resigned himself to being mostly unhappy for the rest of his life. While hunting down bounties was an excellent distraction, he now had more money than he knew what to do with, and he just couldn't envision himself dying eventually at the hands of a target who couldn't be captured.

In his heart of hearts, past all of the darkness of the last few years, James really just wanted to settle down somewhere and spend his days as a blacksmith, somewhere Sahko could come and go freely. But there was no such place, at least, no place he'd want to be that wouldn't also be filled with people too good for the man he had become.

After he finished the roof, which took all morning and well into the afternoon, including the lunch break Gammel forced him to take, James accepted the bundle of strange metal and carried it up to Sven's.

After a brief explanation of where he'd gotten it, the older smith, seeming curious enough, invited James to join him at the forge to experiment with it. For the rest of the day, the two men molded it, crafted it with painstaking care into two different items. First, a plate of unspecific armor the exact thickness James preferred to wear. Second, a slender blade.

Once the two creations had cooled, Sven shoved the random pieces of half-finished weapons and armor on his workbench aside, resting the wide plate of armor on the surface. "How should we test it?" James asked him, and the smith gave a short laugh.

"We go all out." From a bucket he pulled out an old steel sword, and unceremoniously raised it over his head. Before James could protest, or even suggest that maybe they start off a little slower, Sven brought it down with all his strength.

A terrible crash rent the air, and James watched in shock as the blade of the sword cracked and split into three separate pieces, falling with loud clangs to the floor. Dumbfounded, Sven lifted the hilt up to eye level to look at the short, jagged piece of steel still attached to it. They both peered over at the plate, to see that the metal was completely unmarked, before turning to each other with wide eyes.

"Well," Sven said finally, kicking aside the metal shards and tossing the hilt back into the bucket, "Let's see what the blade does."

James took it from him, weighing it in his hands. Gripping the small handle, he turned to face the old, beat up target hanging in the back of the room. Without hesitating, he hurled it with precision at the bullseye, where it promptly disappeared into the leather-and-straw construct.

"Uh…" he quickly walked over to it and peered into the hole the blade had torn, seeing a faint glint of silver buried in the target. Reaching in, he yanked hard on the handle and found that it was firmly wedged into the wooden framework of the object. It took another few pulls, but it finally came free, and James looked at the knife with admiration. Ever so softly he drew the edge of it along the pad of his thumb, and watched as a line of blood welled up behind it.

"I think I like this stuff," he turned back to Sven, holding up his thumb.

"You've got a good amount of it, but not enough to craft a new sword _and _armor," Sven pointed out, and James pondered this for a moment.

"What if…" he walked over to the plate, hoisting it up. "We don't make the entire sword. We just coat the blade in the stuff. Wouldn't that work? And as for the armor… we could coat some gauntlets and a chest plate. After all, I'm a man who can appreciate the shinier things in life. They won't be as ridiculously strong as pieces made only of this stuff, but if I can't avoid getting hit as hard as you just smashed that sword against this plate, I deserve to die."

That settled that. They worked all night, hunching over the searing heat of the forge and the workbench, drawing out the potential of the mysterious metal.

The next morning, blinking, James awoke groggily to find himself slouched over in a pile of old hammers.

"Wha—"

He heard the _hiss _of hot metal being submerged in water and the events of the previous day returned to him. Scrambling to his feet, he rushed over to where Sven stood next to a long trough.

Eagerly he watched as the older smith reached into the bubbling water and pulled out a gleaming length of silver metal.

_It was beautiful. _The sword took his breath away. It shone in the dim light of the forge, and James could barely contain his excitement as Sven held it out to him. The grip landed in his palm and his hand reflexively closed around it. Testing the weight, he noted with extreme satisfaction how well balanced it was, not to mention the perfect width and length of the hilt. It was almost completely unadorned, barring some geometric patterns along the base of the blade, but when he turned it over, James spotted a lightning bolt etched into the pommel.

Grinning, he turned to look at Sven, who seemed to be enjoying his obvious enthusiasm. "It's amazing, Sven. Absolutely stunning."

"Well, it was a group effort," the large man said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and yawning. "I'm going to get a little shuteye. Oh, the plates are done, as well."

Excitedly, James glanced over to the workbench as the other man left to see a silvery chest plate set in black leather. Next to it rested black gauntlets with long plates of the metal set into them.

"Oh, man," James whispered. Looking down at himself, he realized he must have cast off his old plates last night at some point, and after a quick inspection of the room, saw them piled in a corner. He set down the sword and walked over to them, picking them up off the floor and looking them over critically. They were scuffed and stained, with numerous small dings and dents. Smiling, he left them in the corner, making his way to the bench, where lifted the new plates up and settled them over his shoulders.

Sven was a master. They fit him perfectly, and he tossed off his old gauntlets and replaced them with the new ones, feeling invincible.

Unable to contain his wide grin, James strode from Sven's workshop, the silver sword carefully sheathed at his side. Unbeknownst to him, that blade would become a symbol of his prowess as a mercenary, commanding respect, fear, and even awe.

As he made his way back to the jungle, eager to show off his new sword and armor to Sahko, James wondered if the gods' gift of this strange metal signaled a change in his fortune, perhaps even a sign of good things to come. He would later look back and realize that yes, change had arrived at last, but whether it was for the better or the worse, he wouldn't know for a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello friends! Sorry I'm a day late, on ****vacation and didn't have access to internet or cellular devices with which to update. **

**Anyways, this chapter is gory, so be forewarned. Review!**

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><p>The day finally came when James became what had once seemed so abhorrent to him.<p>

He was following a target through a crowded street, eyes narrowed above the black fabric covering the lower half of his face. The man he was following knew he was being pursued, but James was almost certain his identity was unknown to the target. Someone roughly shoved into him, momentarily distracting him, but when he looked up, the target had vanished.

Cursing silently, James took a few more steps forward, shifting to the side of the street as he peered through the throng of nameless faces, when suddenly he was hauled into a dim, narrow alleyway by the back of his tunic.

Before he could draw his sword he was punched hard in the stomach, and as he doubled over he heard his blade being drawn from its sheath. In an instant he drew a knife from his belt and haphazardly slashed out with it, catching his assailant's throat with the blade. Gurgling, the man dropped the sword and fell to his knees, holding his neck, before collapsing to the ground.

Horrified, James stumbled backwards, staring at the man bleeding out on the grimy stones. _Get up,_ he willed. "Get up!" But the man was motionless, and James knew, with a sick twisting of his gut, that he had just killed someone.

For all the violence he had committed, all of the fighting and subduing of targets, he had never once taken a life. It had been a matter of principal, he would not give the ghosts of his past the satisfaction of seeing him fulfill the mold his people had cast for him.

_Murderer._

But before he could take a step towards his fallen opponent, another set of arms seized him from behind.

"Now we've got you, _Winter,_" a voice sneered, and James looked around to see four other thugs approaching from the open end of the alley. _Ah, shit._

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the blade of his sword, gleaming silver in the dingy alleyway. _He had to stall for time. _If he could just get to his sword, he'd be all right. _But how? _

"I don't understand," he said slowly, as though deeply confused, although he knew exactly what had happened. He'd been set up.

"Don't you, though? You've made yourself a fair number of enemies, _sellsword, _stickin' your nose where it don't belong and interruptin' trade."

"Trade? You mean theft, piracy, and murder?"

"Don't sound so high an' mighty," one of the men spat. "You're no better than us. Look 'ow you killed Gall here wi' one swipe of your little knife. You're a cold-blooded killer."

"I am _nothing _like you!" James was angry. The man's words rang true, and they all knew it. But James had always prided himself on doing the right thing, even when right and wrong seemed completely backwards. Now, a man was dead because he hadn't been careful enough to watch his own back, and he himself was probably going to die now, knowing that he was tainted by the blood of another.

_No. Not like this. _The men were closing in, and some deep, cold instinct kicked in. In a flash he smashed the back of his head into the face of the man holding him, breaking his nose, which gushed blood over James's head and neck. The man's grip loosened and James yanked himself free, whipping out two knives and slashing at the other men. Surprised, they stepped back, which was the only space James needed to dart forward and grab his sword. Whirling around, he faced them, all of their weapons raised.

"You know you're not going to be able to get away from us," the one with a bloody nose sneered. "Even if you escape today, we'll find you. There's blood on your hands now. Your reputation is fierce but you ain't a killer, after all. You don't have what it takes to save yourself. And once you're gone, your gods-damned dragon is going to be in a world of hurt before we sell 'im to the highest bidder."

James wasn't intimidated by the man's speech. After all, wasn't it true? He had killed the man before him on accident, not with his own determination.

He wasn't a killer… yet.

James was sick of the burden of violence, trying to sustain some semblance of humanity even as he treated human beings as profitable targets. But when they brought up his dragon, something snapped. These men wanted to kill him, and once they did, they were going to hurt Sahko.

And James wasn't going to allow that to happen.

One of the men stepped forward with a smirk, mistaking James's silence for submission. _Big mistake. _Just as the thug's axe came down to cleave through his shoulder, James rushed forward and without hesitation swung his sword.

The man's arm fell with a sickening thud next to his hammer. Completely shocked, his jaw dropped, but before he could scream James ran him through completely with his blade, coming in close. Blood trickled from the corner of the man's mouth, and James shoved him off, immediately attacking the next thug, who quickly got over his surprise and shouted with rage.

Their swords clashed, but the old steel was no match for James's silver blade, and after a few powerful swings the other man's blade cracked and shattered, leaving him exposed. James slashed his weapon across the thug's torso, sending out a spray of blood. He didn't wait to watch the body fall to the ground, rather, he turned and swung at the man running up to stab him from behind, taking off his hand and sending his steel sword flying. Screaming, the man stumbled back, but James already had a knife in his free hand, throwing it through his opponent's throat, and the scream cut off into a gurgle.

_One, two, three… two more. _The next thug ran at him with his hammer raised, and James neatly stepped around the swing, pivoting to stab his silver sword right through the man's torso. He grabbed at the blade sticking out of his gut, to no avail. James yanked the sword out as he collapsed, turning to face the last man standing, the one with the bloody nose and bad attitude.

Trails of blood had trickled from the pools on the alley stones around the bodies of the thugs, spilling out into the street. At first, no one noticed, but then someone cried out, and quickly the throng of people was crowded around the alley entrance, shouting with concern at the fight taking place. The noise of the fight had been drowned out by the passing crowd, but now that there was an audience, the clashing of metal on metal echoed from the alleyway.

They ran at each other, both slipping slightly in the excessive amount of blood on the ground. Their blades clashed, James's silver sword holding strong as the other man's weapon slowly began to weaken. He was a far more capable opponent than the others had been; clearly he was their leader. Seeing the dents in his sword, the thug quickly lifted his leg and kicked James in the side, not hard enough to do damage but with enough force to send him to his knees. Raising his blade with a bloody smirk, the man ran at James, who instinctively raised his hand to shield himself from the strike, supporting his arm with the tip of his silver sword against the ground. Rather than go through him, though, the other man's blade came down hard against the metal part of James's gauntlet. The plate held, but James felt his wrist crack, and with a hiss he jumped clumsily to his feet, holding his broken arm close and raising his sword with his other, weaker hand.

Looking surprised, the thug looked down at his bent sword, then back up at James with a determined rage. "I don't know how such a scrawny bastard as you managed to finish off my best men, but rest assured, you will not leave this alley alive."

"If I go, you're going with me," James said through gritted teeth. With a growl the man rushed him, swinging his bent sword at James's head. At the last possible moment, James stepped out of the way. _Fool,_ he thought as the man overextended himself, and he smacked the blade out of his opponent's hand with the flat edge of his sword. They both watched the weapon skitter down the alley, but James was faster, getting between the man and his blade.

"You're done," he said to the thug, grimacing with the pain in his wrist.

Rather than acknowledge his defeat, the man gave a short laugh, though he was scowling with rage. "Not yet." Faster than James would have thought possible, he leapt forward and kicked James's sword out of his hand, so that they were both standing weaponless.

Now the fight was hand to hand, but James only had one hand, and he was significantly smaller than his opponent. The man seemed very aware of this, and laughed again, coming forward with a wicked right hook. At the last second James ducked, and twisted to jam his elbow into the man's kidney as he passed.

Grunting with pain, the thug turned and lashed out again with a meaty fist, catching James on his temple. He spun, hitting the wall. _Shit shit shit… _He looked up in time to see the other man lifting a sword off the ground. _James's _silver sword.

_Not like this. _Not with his own blade. James finally snapped as the thug ran at him, and dodged his own blade as it came slicing through the air. It scraped along the wall in a shower of sparks, distracting his opponent long enough for James to pull out one of his knives and shove past him, thrusting the short blade deep into the back of the other man's leg.

"_AGH!_" The large man dropped to his knee, halfway turned around, and James kicked his hand, sending his sword straight up in the air. Leaning forward, he caught it by the hilt and whirled around just in time to see the thug yanking the knife out from his leg and pulling back to throw it right at him.

So James didn't stop his spin. He swung his blade out in a wide arc, barely feeling any resistance as it sliced through his opponent's neck.

Coming to a stop, breathing heavily and clutching his injured wrist closely to his chest, James watched as his knife fell from the thug's hand, before his whole body collapsed. The man's head, separated from his shoulders, rolled forward, and with distaste, James stepped around it, nearly slipping in the pools of blood that saturated the alleyway.

Stunned, James looked up, out of the alleyway, to see an enormous crowd of people staring back at him with horror. Looking back down at the corpses of his attackers, something welled up inside him, and he screamed.

It was a cry of rage and hate and desperation and fear. It echoed through the streets, bringing all motion to a halt.

Stumbling forward, clinging to his sword with his good hand, the crowd quickly shifted to get out of his way. But he paused in the mouth of the alleyway, glancing down at his bloody hands, clothes, and sword, and he felt the need to open his mouth again.

"Do you all see the price of violence?!"

A roar echoed through the town and nervously, people broke free from their shock and looked up with fear.

"What is that?!"

James almost sobbed with relief. "Get out of the way!" he shouted, waving his sword, which shone brightly despite the blood on it. People tripped over each other trying to get away as the dragon landed with a crash on the top of the building next to the alley.

Sahko saw and smelled the blood, and he had heard James's cry. Hissing, he let out a terrible shriek, and everyone watched, terrified, as he summoned the electricity stored in his spines and shot out a powerful bolt of lightning towards the horizon. With another roar, he sent the townspeople running, and leapt from the rooftop to land before the alley, where James stood swaying in shock.

He couldn't hide his concern, and James seemed to notice that, and snap out of his trance. Clumsily, he sheathed his filthy sword, and still cradling his arm, he hauled himself up onto Sahko's neck, gazing out at the shaken onlookers.

For a second, he wondered if he should say something else. _There is nothing to say. _

He nudged Sahko, who grumbled, before leaping skyward. "Home, Sahko," he said, his voice nearly giving out, and the dragon complied, flying as fast as he could towards Merirosvo.

Behind them, the entire town stared at their shrinking forms, before looking with horror at the gory mess in the alleyway. _Who was that man? _many of them wondered. The only thing that was certain was that every visitor to their town for the rest of time would hear the tale of the blood-soaked figure with the shining silver sword, flying off into the distance on a dragon that shot lightning from its body.


	8. Chapter 8

**EB: I'm glad you liked the action :) James can hold his own, that's for sure. **

**Vvarden: Thank you! I wasn't sure how the darker plot was going to go over but seeing as how no one has complained I guess it's alright. **

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><p>It was about a month after his return to Merirosvo from the fight that a new ship sailed into the harbor. A note arrived in the morning, borne by a nervous-looking and filthy boy, who barely stuck around long enough to collect his coin before turning and fleeing back through the jungle.<p>

_Greetings, Winter._

_I've heard much about your exploits as a mercenary, primarily your skill as a tracker. As it happens, I am in need of such an individual. But not just anyone will do. You see, I believe that your unique… partner… makes you the ideal person for the task in mind._

_You can find me aboard the _Tuhoavat_, we berthed late last night. _

_I look forward to making your acquaintance soon._

_— S.V._

For a while, James debated fiercely with himself. Ever since he had returned from his last, fateful mission, he had barely slept, barely eating anything at all. Sahko actually seemed worried about him, and now that he was pacing back and forth in their small camp, muttering to himself in frustration, it was all the dragon could do not to jump up and hold him still.

"Whoever this _S.V. _character is, obviously he isn't from around here, or he'd know better than to try and catch my interest. Especially now… No. I won't be drawn in by some mysterious missive from some mysterious person vaguely referring to you in some effort to pique my curiosity." James kicked at the dirt.

"I mean, I'm through with the mercenary work, Sahko," he said irritably. "And everyone around here knows better than to bring it up."

The dragon just looked at him and rolled his eyes.

"I mean it! Those days are over. I've destroyed every last vestige of my humanity, now it's time for someone else to take up the position." James thought of his sword. It was wrapped up in some cloth, still filthy, for he hadn't been able to look at it since his return. He couldn't stand the reminder of the men he had been forced to kill.

_No, you made the choice to kill them, and now you have to live with it. _The voice in the back of his head was only a little mean, mostly just reprimanding. Sighing, he hung his head. _What was he going to do? _

A grumbling noise caught his attention and he looked up to see Sahko watching him expectantly.

"What's the harm in going? I'll tell you," James pointed at him with a scowl. "I'll get sucked right back up into this gods-damned game, more people will get hurt, and I'll eventually go insane."

Another grumble.

"I'm not going, and that's final."

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><p>He went.<p>

James slowly made his way along the docks, after asking a grimy looking sailor where he could find the _Tuhoavat. _The man had actually blanched, and turned to run off before James flashed a few coins at him. Gulping, the sailor pointed him in the right directions, grabbed the coins and disappeared.

_Just who was this S.V., and what did he want with him? _A bit uncertain but unafraid, he found himself approaching a large ship with masts reaching up higher than any he had ever seen. But it wasn't the size of the craft that caught his attention. No, it was the sails, black as night, that piqued his curiosity. _Interesting. _

Finally, he stood at the end of a long gangplank, watching the crew bustle around the deck. These weren't ordinary sailors, though. James immediately noticed that these men were enormous in stature, all burly and muscular and thoroughly disreputable looking. There were a few smaller, more wiry men, but they were lean with muscle, and shifty-eyed to the point where James half expected one of them to throw a knife in his direction if he so much as moved an inch too quickly.

Pirates were not his favorite breed of human, but James had dealt with them countless times in the past, both as employers and targets. He couldn't help the uneasy feeling he got just looking at the ship and her crew. He reminded himself that he wasn't intimidated by them, but he made a mental note to be extra wary of their presence.

After a time, a scruffy, rat-faced man appeared at the top of the gangplank, peering down at James with dark, beady eyes.

"Can I 'elp you?" he asked, not sounding as though he was feeling particularly helpful.

"I received a missive this morning," James replied, holding up the note.

His gaze narrowing, the ratlike man made his way down the gangplank, eyeing the note. Upon closer inspection, James noticed that his nose was particularly crooked, and could see the faint shadows of bruises around his shifty eyes, which after a moment widened with surprise.

"_You're _Silver?" he asked incredulously, and James was immediately conscious of how awful he must look after a month of barely eating or sleeping.

"Silver?"

"I thought you'd be taller. Oh well. Cap'n is waitin' for you," the rat-faced man said before turning to head back up towards the ship. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

Swallowing his confusion, James allowed the man to lead him aboard the pirate ship, ignoring the dark glances of the crew as they climbed a series of stairs leading to the helm. A figure stood at the far end of the deck, facing the sea with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Captain!" the rat-faced man called out in his piercing voice. "Silver's 'ere."

"You may go, Currel." The captain's voice was just loud enough to be heard, and without a word the lean man turned and scurried down the stairs.

Uncertain, James stepped forward, and waited. For a moment neither he or the captain moved, both facing out to sea. It was a cloudy day, overcast and gray. The wind wasn't strong but it was cold against his skin. James wasn't going to speak first, though; he had enough experience with pirates to know that it paid to be patient.

Finally, the captain slowly pivoted on his heels, and James could see from across the deck that the other man's face was masked, just like his own usually was, beneath a broad black hat. He wore a red coat, and as he approached the intricate embroidery on the fabric became visible. Underneath, James could see tight black pants and black boots, and he hid his surprise when the man stopped in front of him, the top of his head barely reaching James's nose.

"Silver." The voice was only slightly muffled by the mask, and it had a lilting quality that threw James off for a moment.

"Silver? Your man Currel called me the same."

"Word of your last great… _exploit_ spread far and wide, and quickly. No one could forget the man with a silver sword, drenched in the blood of his enemies, who summoned a tame Skrill with just a single call. No one who ever encountered you before then forgot you, either, and the warrior, Winter, has now become the legend: Silver."

James ignored the image of his silver sword flashing red, forcing himself to stay calm. "A Skrill?"

"Your dragon. Shoots lightning from its mouth, black and purple in color, for the most part extremely ill-tempered."

Well, that sounded like Sahko, alright. "Good to know, I suppose. Speaking of my dragon, he'll be wondering where I am, so perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me why you've summoned me here? If you know enough about me to know that my last _exploit _ended in bloodshed, chaos, and death, you must also know that I am no longer interested in bounty hunting or mercenary work."

"Fair enough. I _had _heard whispers that you might have turned over a new leaf, but I assumed it was just the idle wishing of one low life to another. Anyone and everyone who has ever committed what might be viewed as a wrong now always lives in fear that someday, somewhere, Silver might come for them. But you're used to us, the thugs, the murderers, the raiders, the pirates… No, I think it's time for you to try something a little different."

"Different how?"

"Well, you see, as I mentioned in my note, I am in need of a tracker. But it has to be someone with a reliable, fast source of transportation, for starters. The target I have in mind could be anywhere, now, and only you will be able to catch her."

"What do you mean, _catch _her?"

"I mean, she moves just as quickly, if not more so, than you do. And I want her alive. So, you'll have to find her, catch her, and bring her back to me."

"When you say she moves as quickly as I do, are you saying that…"

"She rides a dragon of her own, the fastest and perhaps the fiercest I have ever seen. Only the best of warriors could have a hope of finding and capturing her, and only the very best would be able to do so while managing to not be completely savaged by her dragon. Only you can do it, Silver."

James couldn't lie to himself, he was curious. _Another dragon rider? _What were the chances? A dragon to rival Sahko, and a target to rival himself. It would be a defining challenge for him. But the stench of blood seemed to have soaked into his very soul, and he shook his head. "A tempting offer, to be sure, but I have found that mercenary work no longer suits me. I wish you the best in your endeavor." With that, he turned away and headed across the deck.

"What is it that you want, Silver? I can pay you handsomely, more than you could ask for!"

"I have no need for any more coin or valuables, I have more than I know what to do with," he called over his shoulder.

"You can't tell me you're not interested in another rider, Silver! A chance to test yourself against an unknown, a force that could perhaps be greater than yours. I am not asking for bloodshed."

"Yet bloodshed is exactly what you are suggesting."

"I need this girl, Silver. I will do anything to have her."

"Why do you want her so badly?"

"I don't want _her._ I want her _dragon._"

_Ah. _"So the truth is revealed," James turned around. "You're not just any pirate, are you? You're a _trader, _am I right? And you think that me bringing you this dragon's rider will make her dragon do as you say? Do you know _anything_ about dragons?"

"I know a lot more than you think I do, Silver," the captain's voice was slightly irritated. _Good, _thought James. "I've never seen a dragon so protective of anything that wasn't its own young. And as I said, it was a dragon unlike any I've ever seen. Black as night, with great bat-like wings and enormous blue eyes. It flies faster than any other dragon, blasting through the air with great booming sounds_. _It is quite marvelous, and it would fetch me quite a good price."

"You do realize that you are asking a man who likes dragons to capture a dragon for you to sell to the highest, most likely abusive bidder?"

"I know you like _your _dragon. But do you actually have any experience with dragons besides your one, unusually well-behaved Skrill?"

_No. _James was irritated by the thought. Just because he didn't have any experience with other dragons didn't mean that he didn't care about them as a species. "Look, _S.V., _I'm not in the business anymore, and I don't want to put my dragon's life on the line by trying to capture some other dragon's rider to blackmail it into doing what you want."

"Okay, fine, you don't even have to capture her. All I ask is that you find her, and I'll do the rest. You don't have to unsheathe your sword, which I notice you did not bring with you, and I don't have to spend the rest of my life searching every landmass for some sign of her."

"I'm not interested."

"You can say no all you want, Silver, but you can't lie to me. I know you're interested, I can see it in your eyes."

Roughly James turned his back again and stalked away, not deigning to respond.

"I'll be here for the next week, Silver, in case you change your mind," the short, irritating captain called after him. "Don't suppress your nature. You're a hunter, and she is the prey you have been seeking all along."

* * *

><p><em>The prey he had been seeking all along<em> echoed in James's head for days. Did he know what he truly wanted from life? Not this. But was this other dragon rider the key to his own happiness? Did she possess some knowledge that could help him find meaning in his own life?

Finally he let out a frustrated shout, "ARGH!" before stomping past Sahko to the pile of supplies next to the dragon's curled up form. He dropped to his knees and roughly shoveled through them, finally pulling up a long bundle and letting the material fall to the ground as he stood back up. Slowly, he gripped the hilt and unsheathed his sword, meeting his own gaze through the dark, dried blood that stained the flawless silver surface.

* * *

><p>She was working on some correspondence when she heard shouting, followed by a loud <em>thump <em>on the deck above her. _What in the world—- _

"Captain!" Someone pounded on her door, sounding panicked.

"Yes?"

The door flew open, and Currel stood in the doorway, eyes wide. "Captain! There's a—"

A loud hissing sound reached her ears, followed by more shouting. Then, a spine-chilling shriek. After a moment, she got up from her seat behind the large desk in the center of the room, waving Currel out of her way.

"But Captain—"

She silenced him, calmly taking the stairs up to the helm, coming to a stop at the top.

There was a Skrill on the deck, surrounded by her loyal crew. Its rider stared at her coldly from behind his black cloth mask, not speaking. Behind her own mask, Surmata Veri slowly smiled. At his side, she could see the shining hilt of a sword, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the girl, and the black dragon she rode, were hers.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you've enjoyed James's story so far. This will be the last update for a while, as James will not be appearing in the sequel for some time. Rest assured, there will be more <em>Silver,<em> so don't worry :) In the meantime, keep reading the sequel! I'll post a notice there when I update here again.**

**-MM**


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